To Live is to Choose Hope
by KatieThomas'95
Summary: "How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back?" She's home. Or at least, that's what they tell her. But how can that be true when she feels like a stranger? As JJ tries to move on with her life, her team is forced to watch as she faces the terrifying reality of freedom.
1. Chapter 1

A/N well here we are again, ready for the second half of this story. Sorry that it's taken so long to bring out the first chapter but it will be all worth it in the end. This picks up about 2 months after the first half finished. Updates will be somewhat sporadic as I find my momentum again.

Anyways, enjoy

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><p>Jay shuffled awkwardly in the armchair. She still had a distinct aversion to anything soft, they made her feel nervous, but it was the only seat that had a good view of the door and the window. The door because that was one of her rules: watch the door. The window because sometimes she liked looking outside. A couple of metres away, in another armchair, was Dr Meaden. She was watching Jay intently.<p>

Jay wiped her hand across her face, trying to relieve her exhaustion. She hadn't slept for more than a few hours in the last three days. In the three days since it all went wrong. She hadn't meant to hurt Emily. She'd just been so scared, her brain had tricked her, tricked itself. So now she was locked up again, in some kind of psychiatric facility.

_He was holding her down, keeping her captive within her own body. He dragged his knife along her skin, leaving dancing red lines in its wake. She screamed and tried to fight him but he was too strong. He was shaking her. It hurt._

_It hurt. It hurt._

"_JJ" He said. "JJ" His attack was suddenly weaker. She took her chance. _

_She twisted his wrist, snapping it and forcing him to release his hold on the knife. Grabbing the knife, she jammed it into his side. He screamed out in pain. Without a second's hesitation her hands found his throat as she used her knees to flip him over._

_She hated the monster that she had become but right now it was all that was keeping her alive. She tightened her grip on his throat, squeezing with everything she had left._

_His eyes widened in terror, but as she watched they change colour. The irises were no longer grey, they were brown._

"_JJ" she choked out._

_She knew that voice. She knew those eyes._

_Someone was yelling. "JJ stop! Get off of her!"_

_Suddenly they wrapped their arms around her waist and pulled her away, throwing her backwards. She gasped in pain as her body hit the wall. Scrambling away, she curled into a ball and closed her eyes trying to protect herself from the blows she knew were coming._

_Instead, strong arms encircled her, holding her close. She tried to squirm away but he held fast. "__**It's okay**__" He whispered, "__**It was just a nightmare**__."_

_She opened her eyes. It was Crow. He was rocking her back and forth and she clung to him like a lifeline. _

"_**Shhhh, I've got you. I've got you.**__" He murmured. She nodded in reply but her eyes widened in horror as she saw the two people on the other side of the room. It was Morgan and Emily. Morgan was kneeling next to her, his face a picture of concern, as she gasped for breath. She was cradling her wrist in her lap, her face white with pain._

_What had she done? Oh God, what had she done?_

"JJ?"

Jay looked up, but refused to meet the doctor's eye. "**My name is Mutt.**" She growled irritably.

The doctor ignored her transgression. "**Have you been taking your medication?**" She asked the question with a gentle voice but there was a stern hint to it.

Jay shot her a look as if to say 'Of course I have. The orderlies watch me take it three timesa day_._'

The doctor seemed to buy her non-verbal retort.

The look was lying though. It hadn't taken the two of them- Crow and herself- long to work out that the orderlies don't check very thoroughly to see whether they actually swallowed the pills from the little paper cups. They didn't jam their fingers into the Ghosts' mouths and rub all around their gums and beneath their tongues to check the pills were well and truly gone.

Half way through their second day, they had started cheeking them, especially the pain pills. Neither liked how they made their minds feel foggy and weighed down. Neither had any difficulty dealing with the pain; it was a fact of everyday life for them. At least there were no physical side effects.

She hated the peach coloured pill that she was supposed to take each morning. Atripla, they called it. Whatever it did, it made her feel nauseas and gave her a thumping headache for the rest of the day. Crow was supposed to be taking the same one but, like her, it was another pill that they hid within the stuffing of their mattresses.

Dr Meaden switched to English. "How have you been sleeping?"

Jay chewed on the inside of her lip. She hadn't. When they were living in one of Morgan's revamps with him and Emily, they had kept to the same routine as before. One would keep watch over the other whilst the other slept for six hours, then they swapped over. It hadn't been perfect but it had worked for a couple of weeks. In the third week, the nightmares got so bad they had taken it in turns taking sleeping pills. That was why Crow hadn't woken up in time to stop her from almost killing Emily.

It hadn't been Crow's fault of course; she was supposed to be watching him, but she had been so tired that she had also fallen asleep. She felt guilty about that.

It was much worse now though. The psychiatric hospital they were in now didn't allow them to share a room. And for some reason, no matter how tired she felt, she couldn't sleep for more than an hour at a time before she woke up screaming again.

She had started sleeping under the bed, with her back jammed up against the wall. It made her feel safer, and reminded her of home. It was a little cramped but not much worse than she was used to.

Dr Meaden kept switching backwards and forth between English and Russian, presumably in an effort to reacclimatise Jay to listening and responding to English without overwhelming her. Jay thought that perhaps it was working, because whilst she was gripped by fear on hearing her former language, sometimes to the point of nausea, it didn't paralyse her in the same way it had before. That said, she refused to speak it. That was a line she would not cross.

"**Are your nightmares getting any better?**"

The answer to that was a definite no. They varied more than they had whilst she was owned by the Lieutenant but that had in no way diminished their intensity. Instead of simply the memories of her life within the Traders, where it was her fear of Washington that dominated her thoughts, now her brain had twisted them into something yet more horrific.

The first had been two nights after they had gone to live in Morgan's revamp. She had watched as they tortured a man, so that she would be forced to kill him. Her first kill. Except it wasn't the nameless man from Washington who so bravely closed his eyes when she had begged him to. It was Morgan, and he had stared her down throughout the entire ordeal.

She had only slept for two hours but even Crow couldn't calm her down enough to sleep again.

The following night it had been Garcia. Somehow still dressed in pink as she was lead into the Cage, she had been shaking so hard she could barely stand.

"**No.**" She muttered quietly.

Dr Meaden looked stunned that she had answered, even if it was just a single syllable. It was more than she had said in the last three days. "**What do you see in your nightmares?**"

"**The people I murdered.**" She replied bluntly, hoping to shock the other woman into changing her line of questioning. She was unsuccessful. The doctor did at least have the decency to look shocked, but she mostly looked sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, that must be very painful for you." She said gently. Back to the English. Jay couldn't help but tense a little on hearing it. The doctor, ever perceptive, noticed it.

"**How did it make you feel, being forced to kill other human beings?**"

"**I don't want to talk about it**" Jay replied, a hint of fear tingeing her voice, she didn't want her reluctance to discuss them to be interpreted as disobedience. She knew that she should try to open up to her, even if only because being signed off by her was the only way she would ever be released from here.

She also knew that the only thing she hated more than the memories, was the emptiness that filled her whenever she thought back to those kills. A long time ago she would have felt something, a deep seated anguish, but now she felt nothing. It terrified her.

Dr Meaden appeared to be waiting for her to speak still, as though she was aware of the little battle taking place within her mind.

"**The first time, I couldn't eat for three days. I was so disgusted by what I had done.**" Her voice was little more than a strained whisper. "**Every time I closed my eyes, I would see him again, as he lay dying in my arms, telling me that he was afraid."**

"**I can't even begin to imagine how horrific that experience was.**" Dr Meaden said, shaking her head sadly.

Jay drew her knees to her chest and looked out the window; it was overcast outside but the colours still amazed her. She was so used to seeing black, grey or red that the green of the trees or occasional blur of a bird flying by helped to calm her.

"**The next time was different. It was an actual fight. Kill or be killed. It happened so fast I didn't really have time to think. It took two days for me to stop washing my hands, desperately trying to get the blood off. It was only there in my mind, but that didn't stop me seeing it. Feeling it.**"

She stopped, unconsciously rubbing around her fingernails in an attempt to remove the blood that had dried there.

"**When you see blood in the movies, or make fake blood for Halloween, you don't realise how warm it is. You don't think about the smell, or how it clings to your clothes and skin for days after." **She mused absentmindedly, still rubbing around her nails.

She snapped back into the present, not daring to allow her mind to drift off. "**It wasn't until about a month later that I realised. Every time I killed, it got a little easier. Every time, it hurt a little less, I was a little less sickened by it all. Until eventually, I felt nothing at all. Somehow, feeling nothing was both better and worse.**"

The doctor's eyes were glistening with tears. She didn't allow them to fall, but they were definitely there.

"**That's when you know that you're truly a Ghost. That's when the part of you that made you human dies. With that knowledge comes a terrible sense of relief; you know that you don't need to fight for your humanity anymore, because it's gone. You lost. All you've got driving you on then is knowing that if you stop, their deaths will mean nothing.**" She returned her gaze to the outside. There was a blackbird on the grass, pecking at the dirt, presumably for worms.

"**Is that why you never thought about killing yourself?**" Dr Meaden asked gently, her eyes probing her for some kind of reaction.

Jay's lip upturned into a grim smile. Oh she had definitely thought about it. She had wanted to, as much as she hated herself for it. She just hadn't done it.

There had been moments before she had lost consciousness in Red fights when she had prayed never to wake up. She always had, be it minutes or hours later, but surely there was a limit to the number of times someone could be knocked out without it being permanent?

That was what had happened to Bantam. She couldn't help but envy him, or at least she had at the time. She wasn't sure how she felt about it now.

Regardless, if she was ever going to get out of here, Dr Meaden needed to believe that she didn't present a danger to herself or to others, so she just nodded slightly. "**Yes.**"

Jay glanced up at the clock. Between her refusal to speak and the doctor's incessant questions, it had finally reached 11.30am. That meant the session was over. She was itching just to run out the door but she didn't dare do so. She waited anxiously for Dr Meaden to give her permission. The doctor had seen her look to the clock.

She bit her lip. The other woman was looking at her intently, as though trying to decide whether to ask one final question.

"Do you like rules?" She asked after a minute or two.

The question took Jay by surprise. But her answer was an easy one. "**Yes**" She said.

"**Why is that?**" the doctor asked, although Jay suspected she already knew the answer.

"**Because then you know what you are allowed to do, and what you're not allowed to do. They make things clear.**" She replied simply. Rules were good. Follow the rules, do as you're told, don't get beaten so often. Break the rules, disobey commands, be punished for it. It was one of the few simple concepts in her life, one that she clung to.

"Over the weekend, I want you to start writing down your own rules. **They can be anything you want. They can be rules to make you feel comfortable and safe, or they can be little things that just make life a bit easier. It's up to you. **Try to avoid using the rules that the men who abducted you used. These should be your rules, and it will be your choice whether you keep to them or break them. Can you do that?" She asked gently.

Jay shrugged half-heartedly. It was 11.34, she didn't want to be here.

Dr Meaden smiled, then opened her desk drawer and withdrew a couple of items. A small notepad and a biro. "**Here, these are for you, so that you can write them down**." She held them out to her. Jay tentatively reached out to take them, still deeply suspicious of being given anything. The doctor smiled at her encouragingly. "Okay then, I'll see you again on Monday." She said brightly.

Relieved to have finally been released, it was all Jay could do not to run for the door.

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><p>AN well i hope you enjoyed dipping back into the Ghost Trader world. Please leave a review, as I always I love getting your input/feedback :D


	2. Chapter 2

A/N I was so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter that i thought i'd post this earlier than i'd intended. AND I'm currently over the moon because A) JJ's PTSD ep was amazing and B) the first half of this story got nominated for the PCAs this year :D THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ANYONE WHO NOMINATED IT, you should have seen my face when the email came through haha

Anyways, thank you also to everyone who followed/favourited this and to all those who reviewed the first chapter (Casie01, , Motherofmytwo, snuggleUP, Notjustanotherperson, GottaLoveCM, Jareau37, XoxMountainGirlxoX, drsnvamps, MrRizzoli, OnceuponCaptainSwan, SilverMoon75, jjcrimminds and Armand)

On with the show

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><p>"How are you getting on with your rules?"<p>

In their last session, Dr Meaden had suggested that she make up a list of rules for her to live by. Jay presumed it was to give her back some sense of control. She wasn't convinced but figured she should do as she was told.

She took a crumpled scrap of paper out of her pocket and smoothed it out on her thigh. On it, were scraggly words written in pencil.

"**May I see them?**" the doctor asked gently.

Jay nodded reluctantly and slowly held out the scrap of paper, wincing a little as her shoulder throbbed.

"**Thank you.**" She said softly as she took the paper from her fingers. She read through them with a neutral expression. They were written in Russian, but some words were spelt phonetically. She noted this with interest; if writing in Russian was not so deeply ingrained in her patient, then that may be a route to gradually immersing her in English again.

Her rules read as follows:

**Watch out for Crow.**

**Sleep with your back to the wall.**

**Do not let them see weakness.**

**Watch the door.**

Jay had other rules as well, but she didn't think Dr Meaden would approve of them. One of them was 'always have a knife'. She was still working on actually getting her hands on one but it wasn't because she wanted to hurt anyone, she just wanted to feel safe.

It had been so long since she had felt safe.

Whilst she was entirely capable of defending herself in a hand to hand situation, there was something comforting about the cold steel of a knife.

But that was definitely a rule that the doctor would not approve of.

She felt a little uncomfortable with Dr Meaden reading them; they were hers, not for anyone else. She doubted anyone else would want to live by her rules anyway.

"Tell me about Crow." She said. The doctor watched carefully as Jay instinctively stroked her index finger over the base of her thumb. When her patient looked at her suspiciously she changed tact. "**Why do you need to watch out for him?**"

Jay frowned. "**It's what we do.**" She didn't want to talk today. And she definitely didn't want to talk about Crow. She was worried about him, and anxiously watching the clock, as if that would somehow speed them along to the end of the session.

Emily was coming to talk to Crow today; he had agreed to help with the investigation into the Ghost Traders in Philadelphia. To date, they had only talked to each other about what had happened to them before they were bought by Boston. Of course there were things they had each told Dr Meaden during their sessions but that was different; there was no way she could truly understand what it had done to them.

She could never truly know what it felt like to be treated like an animal. She would never understand what it meant to kill another human being. She didn't know what it was like to wake up from a nightmare only to remember that reality provided no relief. Because these were things you had to experience in order to truly comprehend.

She admired Crow for his courage; he was far braver than she could ever hope to be. At the moment she had some breathing space because the FBI were focusing their efforts on Philly and New York. The problem was that she didn't know how for how long things would stay that way. She didn't know what to do.

On the one hand, she wanted to tell them what she knew because she might have the information that finally brought Washington down. But on the other hand, that was not a part of her life she could bear to return to. There were plenty of details that she did not want down on public record. And what if Washington found out that she was helping them? She knew he had people on the inside. He had spies everywhere, he had told her as much. The consequences for her, if he ever found out, would be dire.

No. She couldn't do it.

The session continued very slowly, with Jay saying very little. When she was finally allowed to leave, she went straight down to Crow's room. She wasn't supposed to go in there, but she suspected that Dr Meaden had said something to the orderlies because they no longer admonished her for doing so, even if their looks were disapproving.

He was sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. He was staring in to space, his brow creased into a frown. She walked over quietly and placed her hand on his arm, bringing his mind back into the room. He flinched slightly as he realised where he was and almost immediately he looked nervous. She knew that he was anxious about talking to Emily.

She winced a little as she sat down next to him; her injuries were still giving her grief. She massaged her temples, feeling a headache coming on, no doubt exacerbated by having someone digging around in her head again. She certainly understood why psychiatrists were so often called 'shrinks'.

They sat side-by-side in companionable silence, their shoulders just touching, until eventually one of the orderlies knocked on the door. When he opened it, he stepped aside to allow Emily in. She felt Crow tense next to her, he didn't really trust her.

"**Hello, Crow, hi, JJ**" Emily said with a small smile. She was wearing a turtle neck, no doubt to cover the bruises that Jay had left on her skin last week. She couldn't hide the cast around her left wrist though. Jay looked away in shame. Crow stood up and moved the chair away from the desk so that Emily could sit down, before perching on the edge of the bed nervously.

Jay got up to leave but as she passed him, he grabbed her wrist in a vice grip. She turned around to see panic in his eyes. He wanted her to stay. That was something that she could understand. She stopped and looked at Emily, silently asking if she was allowed to stay.

"**This is just an informal interview.**" She said reassuringly, "**You can stay if you'd like**"

Jay nodded and sat on the bed, shuffling backwards so that she had her back against the wall. Crow also shuffled backward, his hand finding hers, drawing support from the contact. Emily's gaze flitted towards their intertwined fingers but she didn't say anything. Instead she set a recording device on the table beside her and balanced a notepad on her lap, her broken wrist making it difficult to hold the notepad and pen at the same time.

"**So, um… what do you want to know?**" Crow asked haltingly.

Emily smiled gently, trying to put the man at ease. "**For now, I'd like to know anything you can remember about the layout of the Philadelphia Second's headquarters. Anything that could help us tactically; security, entry and exit points, weapons.**"

He chewed on his lip momentarily. "**Philly was very similar to Boston.**" When he spoke his voice was mechanical, emotionless. "**The ground floor is a large waste management facility. Some of it extends outside, there is a large landfill site. The Lieutenant had a couple of large city contracts.** **On the first basement level there is the training area and the… the ovens.**"

His resolve cracked. His breathing had sped up and his grip on Jay's hand had tightened. "**You're okay.**" She murmured, stroking her thumb across the back of his hand. "**You're okay**." She repeated soothingly.

Emily had a look of dread on her face. Her voice was hesitant as she asked "**What ovens?**"

He swallowed and closed his eyes, his brows drawn into a pained frown. "**They… they incinerated medical waste from a couple of private hospitals, some other stuff as well.**" His voice was shaking so badly it was hard to understand him. "**It was how…**" He took a trembling breath, trying to get a hold of himself. Jay squeezed his hand.

"**It was how they got rid of the bodies. They'd pile them up next to, next to the ovens. And then we'd have to put them inside.**" His knuckles were white around her hand but she didn't say anything. "**When it was done, we would bag up the, uh, the ashes and take them into the tunnels.**"

"**Tunnels?**" Emily probed gently.

"**The sewers. We would have to dump the ashes in the sewers.**" He grit his teeth, anger setting his jaw. It was an anger that Jay was familiar with; anger that their degradation continued into death. Ghosts were bought and paid for, she understood that and she accepted it. She knew her place in the world. A place that was never better reinforced than when she had disposed of the bodies of the Ghosts who were killed.

They were thrown away like garbage, as though they were worthless, nothing. Very few bodies would ever be found, all trace of them lost forever, as if they had never existed. In spite of the crimes they had committed, they deserved better than that.

Her thoughts drifted to Bantam. She wondered what had happened to his body. She hoped that he had found peace in death.

She blinked rapidly, realising that she had lost track of the conversation. Crow was speaking.

"…**had some of us carry messages to the other Lieutenants. It's how I learned to read.**"

Jay allowed a ghost of a smile to grace her lips as warmer memories crossed her thoughts.

_She rocked back on her haunches to admire her handy-work. Scratched into the wooden crate in front of her were four letters. __С __о к а. __Her name, soyka. Or at least, she thought it was. She heard a soft chuckle next to her. "__**Sorka.**__" Crow said, grinning at her._

_She glared at him in mock irritation. He leaned forward and used the screw in his hand to scratch out another character. __Й. __Now the word read as __С __о __Й__ к а. __She rolled her eyes but smiled. As she carved out the word again, she couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride. And ownership. Soyka. That name belonged to her._

Emily had scribbled down a few notes on her pad. Crow had shifted backwards so that he was sitting next to Jay. He was humming softly to himself, trying to keep himself calm. She knew how hard that was sometimes; it was like trying to build a sandcastle to withstand the incoming tide.

She placed her other hand on his arm, tracing a sigma over his skin. It seemed to help somewhat; he stopped humming although the tension in his muscles remained. She caught Emily's eye, mentally pleading with her to finish with this quickly, trying to tell her just how close he was to the edge.

Emily nodded once. "**What kind of weapons do they keep on site? Are the Lieutenant's men armed whilst in the complex?**"

He shook his head. "**I don't know. The only guns the Watchers carried were those, uh, those air guns that fire ball bearings.**"

Jay couldn't help but roll her shoulders, even now she could feel one of those ball bearings pressing against her shoulder blade. She had removed the ones the Watchers had shot into her thigh and stomach but she had been unable to reach the one embedded beneath her scapula. It remained there as just another reminder, taunting her.

"**Only the higher up Watchers used them. Mostly they just used them to make the Cheaps yelp for their own entertainment, but sometimes they'd come up real close or press the muzzle against your skin before pulling the trigger. It was just for fun, they didn't carry proper guns for fear one of us would get hold of one.**"

Emily looked sickened, which surprised Jay; after all, given the nature of her work, this sort of thing was something she was used to seeing. Then it hit her, what sickened Emily was that she knew that anything done to Crow would likely have been done to her too. It's so much harder to compartmentalise when one of the victims was once a friend.

"**Other than that they only really carried whips. One or two had knives. But we weren't allowed on the ground floor, they kept us underground, they may have had other weapons up there.**" His voice was mechanical again. He was shutting down. Emily would get little more out of him today. It was something she appeared to realise.

"**Okay, I think I have enough information for now. I just have one more question. Would you be able to draw a map of the complex for us? It would help to minimise casualties if the FBI decides to breach it.**" She looked at Crow hopefully.

His gaze was vacant but he nodded absently. Emily smiled. "**Thank you, Crow. I know this is difficult, but we really appreciate your help.**" She was about to reach out to shake his hand but thought better of it and put the recorder and her notepad back in her bag. Now she looked at Jay. "**I'll see you soon, JJ.**" She said softly. Her eyes were glistening a little with barely held back tears.

She left quickly, looking back once as she got to the door.

Crow was struggling; his free hand was clenched into fist and his face was drained of colour. Jay knew she should stay with him but she couldn't just let Emily leave like that. Not when there was so much she wanted to say to her. That she was sorry for the hurt she had caused her, that she was grateful for all the support she had given her in the last two months, that she hadn't meant for any of this to happen.

She scrambled off the bed and ran to the door.

"**Emily**" She shouted desperately.

Emily turned back, sorrow filling her features. She saw how broken her friend was. Her captors had twisted her almost out of all recognition. Almost. As she looked back now she could see one of those rare glimpses she had once known. It hurt her that those glimpses were most often seen when she was with Crow; Emily suspected that they cared for each other more than they realised. But she also understood why it was so.

Just having proof that her friend was still there, waiting, hiding within that broken shell was consolation enough.

She watched her struggle to find the words, even in Russian.

After a small while she managed to say quietly "**I'm sorry I hurt you.**"

"**Oh Jayje.**" As she took a step towards her she watched as JJ fought the urge to take a step back. She appreciated that. She placed her hands on her shoulders. "**JJ, I need you to listen to me, and listen good. You have nothing to apologise for. Do you hear me? Nothing.**" She drew her into a gentle hug. "**No matter what happens, I will be here for you.**"

JJ gave a tiny nod.

"**I have to go but I'll be back soon.**"

JJ just nodded again. She glanced back anxiously. "**He needs me.**" She mumbled, dropping her eyes. She didn't move though.

Em realised that she was waiting for permission to go. She held back a sigh; sometimes it was easy to forget just how absolute the Ghost Traders' control over their victims was. But she wasn't going to play their game. Rather than reinforce JJ's belief that she didn't deserve to control her life, Emily just gave her a shaky smile and walked away.

She made it back to the car before she allowed the first tears to fall. She sat down heavily in the passenger seat and held her head in her hands.

"You okay, Prentiss?" Santiago asked. He was sitting in the driver's seat, watching her with concern.

She wiped the tears away and took a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. It's just difficult seeing her like that, you know?"

"I know, but she'll get better. These things take time." He said gently. He paused for a moment. "Do you think she's ready to talk?"

Emily shook her head wearily. "I don't know. Sometimes I think she's doing better but then something happens and it's like she's right back where she started. I know you want to know what happened to your friend, but like you said, these things take time."

Santiago sighed. He understood that Emily wanted to protect her friend but he wanted answers, not just for himself but for the wife and daughter Jason had left behind when he died. The wife and daughter who had had to hold a closed casket funeral because his body had been so badly mutilated. The wife and child who didn't know why he had died, only that he had been killed in the line of duty.

These were the answers he so badly needed, the answers that he suspected Jareau had.

But he had kept his questions to himself for 9 months, he could wait a little longer for answers, especially if in doing so he learned more. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure Jareau before she was ready and have her shut down.

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><p>AN okay so the plan is to begin clearing up the Jason backstory, eventually begin bringing in the rest of the team as JJ recovers, then in the long run take down Washington, obviously :) if there's anything in particular that you'd like to see then let me know either with a review/pm and i'll see if i can work it in.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N back again, thank you to everyone who reviewed (OnceuponCaptainSwan, XoxMountainxoX, Sam, Notjustanotherperson, Jareau37, cheetobreathJareau, drsnvamps, moonie912 and Armand) your input is very much appreciated :)

you might want to go back and read the flashbacks in chapters 36 and 37 in the first half of this to refresh your memory- the flashback at the start of this continues on from them.

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><p><em>Mutt was shivering, trembling but not from fear. She was cold yet hot at the same time; a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead. In the flickering candle light, she peeled back the edge of the bandage covering the deep wound in her stomach. She grimaced in pain and distaste; she didn't need to move her nose any closer to it to be able to smell it. It was infected, festering. She bit her lip as she probed the affected flesh as gently as she could but it still hurt like hell. <em>

_She estimated that it had been nine days since the other Ghost had stabbed her. For the first day or so the wound had begun to heal but since the infection had set in it had been getting steadily worse. She hadn't seen the Watcher with the tattoo in about a week. The ones who came in to 'treat' her didn't know what they were doing, they would simply change the dressing and leave again. The only time the door to her cell ever opened was for someone to give her pills or food._

_Seeing the yellow puss that was oozing from beneath the stitches made her stomach turn. It had a horrible, rotten smell. The skin surrounding the wound was red and inflamed, hot beneath her touch. In some places it had blackened._

_She could hear heavy footsteps; a Watcher was coming. She replaced the bandage and pulled her top back down, glad to have the injury out of sight again._

_When the door opened, she watched the man who entered warily. It was the one with the tattoo. The one who had said that he was going to get her out of here. The moment he had said it, her heart had started beating wildly in her chest, but not from hope, out of fear. _

_It was a test, set up by the Lieutenant to determine her loyalty, she knew that. She also knew that her loyalty lay with the Lieutenant; she needed him. He gave her food, clothes and protection. He kept her safe. All he asked in return was that they spend 'private time' together. He never meant to hurt her, certainly not unprovoked. He only hurt her when she did things that she shouldn't, when she made him angry. It was her own fault really; she should know better._

_She was still on edge when he approached her and watched him suspiciously as he peered at her neck. He shook his head reproachfully as he examined skin where the collar had been chafing. It surprised her that the reproach was not directed at her though, but to her situation. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock that held the collar in place._

_Mutt was stunned: she'd been in Medical a fair number of times and no-one had ever done that._

_It was then that he noticed her shivering. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. On feeling the heat radiating from her skin, he frowned. She shrank away from his touch, hating the feeling of skin against skin, but he ignored her; his movements were urgent now. He pulled up her top, exposing the dressing over the wound. It was clear by the way he wrinkled his nose that he too could smell it._

_As he peeled back the dressing, he inhaled sharply. "Oh shit." He breathed. Mutt flinched; he had sworn in English- it must be bad. A part of her mind focused on that, after all, none of the Watchers ever spoke English. The rest of her brain was too busy compartmentalising the pain._

_He completely removed the dirty bandage, knowing it to be useless. He got up and shouted down the corridor, switching back to Russian now. "You! Get the Lieutenant! Now!" He must have been shouting to another Watcher._

_He came back in with a bag full of medical supplies and a large torch which he fixed to the ceiling. He gave her two pills and a bottle of water to swallow them with. Her arms were shaking with fever and fatigue; in the end he was forced to hold the bottle to her lips so that she could take a sip with the pills. _

"_I need you to lie back." He said quickly, though he helped her to manoeuvre her body when he saw her grimace. She felt vulnerable and afraid and she hated it. "Don't worry" He said, even as he was removing the stitches from her stomach, "We'll get you to a doctor, a real doctor. You'll be okay." But there was doubt in his eyes; he didn't believe what he was saying. Neither did she._

When Jay woke, she was staring up at the springs beneath her bed. Her hand drifted to the ropy scar on her stomach. It was three inches in length and about half an inch in width. Despite its size, it wasn't a scar she hated. Because when she had been clinging to life in Medical, any 'private time' with Washington had been put on hold. The cause of that scar had been a welcome relief.

She knew now that he was a monster, that what he had done to her when they were alone together hadn't been her fault; Jason, and then Crow, had helped her to see that.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly and went to roll out from under the bed; whilst she preferred sleeping on the floor underneath, she doubted the orderlies would approve. However, as she rolled to the side, she stopped: Crow was lying on the floor a couple of feet away, sound asleep.

She pinched herself to check that she was awake, that he was actually there, and on determining that yes, she was awake, she smiled bemusedly. How had he got in here? She could only assume that he had picked the lock and dodged the night staff. She knew from experience that Ghosts had a talent for resourcefulness.

Rather than wake him, she removed of the screws from the metal bedframe and began to scratch away at a patch in the wall. The screw cut into her fingers a little but she didn't mind; since that incident at the hospital, it had been clear to both of them that they couldn't go through their usual ritual. But both of them were loath to let it go entirely. Instead they used the dust they scratched off the wall to draw lines over the scars on their arms. It wasn't ideal but for the now it was the best they could do.

Eventually Crow blinked awake. Jay just looked at him and said teasingly, "**What? Can't sleep without a night-light?**"

He raised an eyebrow in a sarcastic 'I might bust a gut laughing at that' kind of way, but then he chuckled quietly. "**Something like that**" he murmured.

"**What time is it?**" she asked, knowing that he could see the clock above the door from where he was lying.

He glanced at it. "**Almost six.**"

She sighed. "**You should go back, they'll be starting their rounds soon…**" Crow nodded in agreement; they didn't know exactly how people were punished if they broke the rules here and neither wanted to find out.

She rolled out from beneath the bed as he got up and went to the door. Once she heard the lock click behind him, she slipped beneath the covers and waited for the monotonous routine of a mental hospital to begin once again.

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><p>Morgan waited, tapping his foot impatiently, in the visiting room of the Nashua Street Jail in Boston. He had taken a personal day; none of the team knew that he was here. It was outside of visiting hours, he was the only person in the room. Both the Boston Second and Morris were currently incarcerated here whilst they awaited their respective trials. He was frustrated and concerned; curtesy of Garcia, he had seen the prosecution's case against Morris. To say that it was thin was an understatement. It was not difficult to predict the outcome of his trial: he would walk away a free man, likely return to the Bureau and continue with his life as if nothing had happened.<p>

That was not an outcome he could accept. That was not justice for JJ. And if he couldn't get justice from the system, he'd have to find it somewhere else.

That's what he was here for.

He looked up as a prisoner shuffled into the room, accompanied by two guards. It was the Boston Second. The former Boston Second. He looked at Morgan with contempt as he was forced to sit in front of him. Morgan's fingertips brushed the barely healed marks the whips of his men had left on his skin.

As the guards secured him and left the room, Nikolai said "I remember you." He laughed harshly, "How does it feel to be another man's property?" He gestured towards Morgan's left wrist. "You feel powerful carrying that gun and badge? You should have a taste of what it feels like to own another human being."

Morgan wanted to smack that smug smile of the other man's face. But he didn't. Instead he leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Do you get off on power, on that rush of adrenaline you get when you see your victims submit to your will?"

Nikolai's eyes glinted.

Morgan smiled grimly. "Well you see, Nikolai, I'm a profiler. And do you know who else profiles like that? With that hunger for power? Rapists."

Nikolai glared at him.

"I wonder if William Lee felt that rush, got his release from that power, as he raped Cheryl." It was wrong, talking about a victim from a case like that but it had the desired effect. Boston's contempt had vanished and now his eyes blazed with anger. "Yes, I did some digging on you. I know who you are, who your family was. What do you think would happen to Cheryl if your connection to her became common knowledge?"

"What do you want?" Boston asked reluctantly.

Morgan took a deep breath. This was wrong. He knew that. But he had to do right by JJ. "There is another inmate incarcerated here, a man named Harrold Morris. He is the reason JJ was sold into your world. He is the reason she has spent the last three years suffering. If what JJ did for your sister means anything to you, you'll do what you think is right."

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><p>AN hope you enjoyed that chapter. As always, let me know what you think/if you have have anything you'd like to see.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N thanks for hanging with me in and the next chapter will look more at the team. Thanks especially to all the reviewers of the last chapter (XoxMountainGirlxoX, Armand, OnceuponCaptainSwan, drsnvamps, RatherBeAWriter, moonie912, Jareau37, Cupcake and Notjustanotherperson), you all keep me motivated :)

Anyways, enjoy

It had been two nights since Crow had sneaked into her room. Now it had become routine, a routine both of them needed; they were actually managing to sleep. Not through the night, no, that was far too much to ask, but now they were each getting about four and a half to five hours. A welcome improvement. Of course, for each two steps they took forward, it seemed they were pushed back another. It was for that reason that Emily was currently looking at her with such concern.

"**Dr Meaden mentioned that you were involved in an incident yesterday…**" Emily said, the slightest hint of disappointment colouring her voice, "**Can you tell me what happened?**"

Jay bit her lip; she was embarrassed and a little discomfited by what had happened. It had been an instinctive reaction, she couldn't control it.

"**JJ, please, talk to me.**" Em said gently, pleadingly.

She picked at a loose thread in the sleeve of her top, still chewing on her bottom lip. "**I didn't mean to…**" She whispered. Emily just waited patiently for her to continue. "**Dr Meaden asked us to write down how situations make us feel, to write it down in English.**"

Prentiss's eyes widened in surprise.

"**She said to start off writing where we feel safe but Crow wanted to push himself. We were in the common room and he was writing.**" She remembered it all too well. He'd been so nervous, his eyes automatically darting around the room, as though checking for Watchers, worried they might punish him. But he'd kept on writing, frowning in concentration. "**There was a man, a patient, walking round the room, talking to people. But he was all up in their faces, asking them questions and shouting answers.**"

Emily nodded in understanding; although the man's behaviour hadn't been particularly aggressive, she could understand why someone who had issues with physical contact and dominant behaviour would be unsettled by him.

"**When he came near us, Crow just froze.**" She remembered the fear on his face, he had been terrified. "**He was so scared, he just sat there, paralysed, as this man got closer and closer. He started shaking. I didn't know what to do. But then the man tried to snatch his notepad.**"

Jay's cheeks coloured in shame. "**I just snapped.**" She had leapt up and slammed both palms into his chest, flooring him. Apparently that had been enough to snap Crow out of his fear because the next thing she knew, she had blood on her knuckles and a nurse on each arm attempting to restrain her, with Crow trying to calm her down. With the nurses holding her down and a third approaching her with a syringe, she had panicked.

Crow had been yelling at her from where he was being held back by an orderly, trying to keep her in the present, to remind her that she was safe. In the end it hadn't mattered; all she remembered after that was waking up in a padded room some time later.

Emily was shaking her head. "**God, JJ, what were you thinking?**" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. "**I know you had to act tough when you were a captive, but aggression doesn't solve anything! Not in the real world, not in here.**" She was exasperated, upset and angry; JJ was supposed to be in here so that she could get better, so that eventually she could live on her own again but sometimes she wondered if that would ever be possible.

Jay's jaw clenched in anger. "**The Traders were the real world, Emily! At least to me. They still are!**" Angry tears were falling down her face, her hands balled into fists. Emily was looking at her in shock. "**As a Ghost, I knew my place. I knew the rules and I obeyed them. Everything made sense. There was routine and order that I understood. But now that's gone, the only thing I had that made me feel comfortable and safe is gone. And I miss it, God, I miss it so much.**"

Emily was crying quietly, dismayed by her outburst. "**You were a prisoner, JJ. The things they made you do…**"

"**I had come to terms with it! And I wasn't a prisoner, I was property. I am property.**" She hissed, pulling her sleeve up to reveal the coded tattoo on her wrist.

Em shook her head, "**You don't belong to anyone, Jayje. You're a human being, not an object, not an animal.**"

"**Boston sold me back to Washington. I won't be free until he says so. I should be with him now. Instead I'm trapped, terrified that anyone I meet could be working for him, could be hunting me down to drag me back to face him. You have no idea what he'll do to me when he finds me…**" She paused for breath, her ribs aching from raising her voice; even now they still gave her trouble. "**Do you have any idea what that feels like? To be constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for your nightmare to leave the shadows and take you?**"

Taking in a sharp breath, Emily wiped the tears from her eyes; she knew exactly what that felt like. But her nightmare was dead and buried, for whatever good that was worth. It wasn't fear that had accompanied her like a shadow for these last few years, it had been guilt.

JJ had fallen silent, but now she looked at her keenly, her blue eyes boring into her in a piercing gaze. "**Doyle. What happened to him?**"

She couldn't bring herself to reply. Instead her thigh ached and the clover on her breast tingled. They brought to mind JJ's words almost four years ago; why suffer a pain you're proud of? There was no sense of pride associated with these scars, only failure.

"**He found you, didn't he?**" JJ asked quietly. Emily just nodded silently, tears brimming again. "**Oh, Em, I'm so sorry. I should have been stronger, if I had held out for longer…**"

"**No, JJ. You were not to blame.**" She took a deep breath. JJ may well hate her after this, she would certainly understand if she did, but she couldn't keep this from her any longer. "**There's something you don't know about Doyle and what happened when he found me after… after he… tortured you.**" She'd never known for certain that that was what he had done to JJ, but it was the only explanation she could come up with. Right now JJ's eyes were confirming it.

"**What don't I know?**" she asked with an edge to her voice.

Emily's voice shook a little when she replied. "**When he found me, he tortured me but he gave me a choice. I could save you, or Declan, but not both…**" She could feel JJ's piercing gaze on her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "**I knew Ian had got to you. He told me that he knew where you were and that there was still time for me to save you. All I had to do was tell him where Declan was.**"

"**You chose to save Declan.**" Jay said heavily; it wasn't a question. Her eyes were cold and hard, her gaze steely. She felt betrayed and hurt. She didn't want to be in here anymore; she needed time to come to deal with this alone. She certainly didn't want to be around Emily. As her sense of betrayal grew, so did her anger. How dare she keep this from her? How dare she make that decision? Would Doyle really have harmed his son so badly that it justified what had been done to her?

She looked distraught when Jay got up to leave and made to follow her, perhaps to apologise, but she stopped her. "**Don't, Em.**" She said, but as she reached the door, she turned back, "**I hope he was worth it.**" She muttered bitterly. And then she was gone.

Only when she had made it back to her room did she allow herself to break down. She was so angry and so hurt. But it was the betrayal that cut deepest. She yelled incoherently as she kicked the chair over and slammed her fist into the cupboard door.

When two orderlies came in she backed into the corner, all the time repeating '**I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just lost my temper.**" She began to cry after that, curled in ball in the corner, rocking herself back and forth. The orderlies seemed to realise that she wasn't about to go on a murderous rage around the ward; one crouched a few feet in front of her whilst the other backed towards the door, giving her space.

"JJ, can you tell me what happened?" the orderly in front of her asked kindly.

Jay just shook her head. Of course she couldn't. He wouldn't understand what she was saying. He sighed. "Well it's time for your meds anyway." He looked at the other orderly. "Go get the trolley will you?" He turned back to Jay. "You know, I was just coming to find you." He took an envelope from his pocket. "The woman who came to see you earlier asked me to make sure you got this." He placed it on the floor in front of him and pushed it over to her.

She considered kicking it away. She didn't want to hear anything Emily had to say at the moment, she just needed time. But then she noticed the handwriting. All it said on the envelope was 'JJ' but those 'J's were distinctive, they were Garcia's. She picked up the envelope and stuffed it in her pocket.

By now the other orderly had returned with the trolley. She passed a little paper cup of pills to the one with Jay, along with a cup of water. She took the pills without as ordered and then opened her mouth so that he could check she had swallowed them. For once he didn't need to. Right now foggy and numb felt like a far more appealing option than hurt and betrayed.

"I'll leave you to it then, lass" The orderly smiled at her and the two continued with their rounds.

The moment they left, Jay dug the envelope from her pocket and looked inside. It had already been opened, but that was understandable; the staff would have needed to make sure there was nothing contraband inside. There wasn't. There was a folded slip of pink paper and a bracelet. She took the paper out first, recognising more of Garcia's writing.

_Dear JJ,_

_I'm not really sure what to write. I know you feel alone right now, and afraid. We haven't spoken in so long. I miss you, more than you can ever know. I just need you to know that we're all thinking of you and we all love you. And when you're ready to come home, we'll be here for you. No matter what. Whenever you wear the bracelet, I want you to remember that._

_Come back to us._

_Penelope_

Jay blinked back tears as she folded the paper again. The paper itself smelled faintly of strawberries and glitter rubbed off onto her fingertips, collecting in the lines and grooves of the scar tissue that had replaced her fingerprints.

She took the bracelet out, fingering each of the coloured wooden beads in turn. They were faceted and rough. She liked that; the sensitivity of her fingertips was so diminished thanks to the scarring that the texture felt comforting. She didn't put it on because she knew she couldn't cope with the feeling of anything encircling her wrist but she kept it clenched in her fist, clinging to it like a lifeline.

She wasn't sure she knew what home was anymore. She'd never felt more alone.

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><p>AN hope that was worth the wait, don't forget to leave a review :D


	5. Chapter 5

A/N I've had to split this section into several parts (turned out wayyyy longer than I expected.) so my apologies for that. It's very information heavy but it should be worth it so stick with me :) Thank you to Armand, RatherBeAWriter, MrRizzoli, Hippiechic81, OnceuponCaptainSwan, rmpcmfan, , snuggleUP, Jareau37, GottaLoveCM, Guest (who I suspect was moonie912?), Cupcake and Notjustanotherperson for reviewing the last chapter. Your support means so much.

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><p>The atmosphere in the round table room was solemn and tense. The team had been tasked with drawing up a profile for the First Lieutenant of Washington, in the hopes that it might help to identify him. Unfortunately, they had little information to go on and what they did have was painful to review. On the table in front of each of them were several files. One was the autopsy report and case files for MPD Officer Jason Bishop, the other was JJ's medical report and what little information she had managed to tell them about her captivity in Washington.<p>

Their final source of information, a distasteful albeit useful source, was Lex; the former Poacher-turned-informant who had been the key to inserting Morgan into the Ghost Trader's operation in Boston.

As a result of his input, Garcia had already taken her leave. As she had explained, profiling was not her job. If the team required any technical assistance then they knew where to find her, in the meantime, she didn't want to be breathing the same air as a man who had bought and sold other human beings. It was a sentiment well understood and to some extent shared by the rest of the team but they had a job to do. If Lex could provide information that might lead them to the man who had destroyed their friend, working with him was the least of their worries.

The tension in the room was palpable as Hotch cleared his throat. "I understand that no matter how we approach this, we are all emotionally involved with this case. The evidence we need to examine will be personal in a number of ways so if at any point any of us begins to feel overwhelmed, just say and we'll take a break. Is everyone okay with that?"

There was a round of murmured 'yes's and short nods from the table. As Hotch looked around the room, he pursed his lips when his eyes came to rest on Morgan. He was staring into space, his brow drawn into a slight frown.

"Morgan?" Hotch prompted. Morgan blinked rapidly and shook himself out of his thoughts at the sound of his name. He looked at back at him with a residue of conflict in his eyes but nodded curtly.

He turned to the man standing at the back of the room with his arms crossed. "Lex, what can you tell us about Washington?"

Lex walked to the front of the room and addressed the room. "As a Poacher, much of what I hear is rumour. That said, the rumours one hears about the Washington First are, more often than not, more disturbing than those concerning the other Lieutenants.

He has been known to experiment on his Ghosts, searching for any means possible to make them more ruthless, more deadly. His conditioning process is more rigorous and insidious, far more effective. For this reason other Lieutenants, such as the Philadelphia Second and all three of the New Yorks, have paid to learn and use his methods."

Rossi looked at him with calm neutrality, a stark contrast to Morgan, whose jaw was clenched in anger. "What is his… method?"

"I cannot give you a first-hand account, I can only repeat whispers and rumours. I'm sure your Agent- Jareau, was it- would be better placed to describe it for you, having experienced it herself."

"No. She's not." Morgan said through gritted teeth. "She has said very little of what was done to her by Washington."

Lex inclined his head. "My apologies; that was thoughtless. The aim of the process is to make the Ghost forget they were ever anything but, to make them compliant killers. It takes approximately six weeks but that varies from Ghost to Ghost- the strong willed ones take longer, the weak ones less.

The first phase involves starvation and dehydration; they given only enough to keep them alive. They are forbidden from speaking or moving. But the key to this phase is sleep deprivation. They are broken down, so that they can be remoulded as the Lieutenant sees fit. Their former identities are stripped from them and replaced with those of Ghosts. Phase one takes up to two weeks."

Looking around the room, he was met by a circle of stony faces. Some- the younger brunette woman and the skinny one with the mop of hair- had a glaze of tears in their eyes. All the eyes were angry though. He continued.

"The second phase continues in a similar manner, but psychoactive drugs are introduced. They blur the lines between nightmare and reality, until the memories of their lives before are dismissed as imagined or so painful to recall that they are actively blocked out. One way or another, the Ghosts lose themselves and become what Washington wants them to be."

Emily grimaced and set her jaw, willing her tears away. They were sickened tears of dismay. In her time at Interpol, she had seen the results of such torture and the impact it left on its sufferers. On a couple of occasions she herself had been subject to it. In conditions like that, hours felt like days. There was no doubt in her mind that a few weeks would have felt like several months. It was little wonder that JJ was so withdrawn, or that she had been so reluctant to remember her past.

It cut her to the quick to know that JJ now blamed her for that torture. It was a guilt she had carried for years, though it was dimmed somewhat by her team's reassurances that she wasn't to blame. JJ's reaction to her confession had stripped away those reassurances, leaving her raw and as guilt ridden as the night they had rescued her from Doyle.

Lex was still speaking in that infuriatingly monotone, almost bored, voice. "The first and second phases are unique to Washington, as far as I am aware. Phase three is more physical. The sleep deprivation and mental conditioning is interspersed with stretches of training. They are taught to fight, with their hands and with knives. If purchased in a batch they will fight each other, if bought separately they will fight the weaker Ghosts."

Morgan glared at the man in front of him, speaking in such a business-like manner, as though the story he was tell was completely acceptable. In all his life he had rarely felt such unspeakable hatred for another human being. He loathed that he still considered him to be a 'human being'.

But what he loathed more were the thoughts running through his head, the part of him that wished JJ had been sold to another Lieutenant in the beginning, perhaps then she might not be so damaged now? He was sickened by it… but he couldn't help but wonder.

He rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his wrist, where the UV ink remained embedded beneath his skin. When he considered the experience of his own initiation into the Traders in comparison with what he was learning JJ's to have been… well, the answer was becoming clearer by the second.

He zoned back into the room, quickly catching up on Lex's narration.

"The fourth and final part of the process is usually swift, though in some cases can take a day or two. The fourth is universal to all the Lieutenants. It is when the Ghost makes their first kill."

"You mean their first 'black fight'?" Reid asked.

"No." Lex replied. Reid frowned, not understanding. His expression was mirrored by the rest of the table. "The victim is unarmed, and often restrained so that they cannot fight back. The Ghost is given a knife and ordered to kill. So the Ghost kills."

Hotch looked at Lex in shock. "Just like that?" He asked.

"Just like that."

"There must be some who refuse?" Blake said, her voice hollow. She was voicing the question that everyone else was thinking, though unsure if they truly wanted to learn the answer.

Lex shrugged. "There are some, yes. If the Lieutenant sees sufficient potential, he might continue the conditioning process until they are suitably compliant. The final phase will then be repeated and the Ghost will kill. If not, the Lieutenant cuts his losses and executes the Ghost there and then." He paused, seeing the dismay on the agents' faces.

"As much as we would like to believe otherwise, when it comes to kill or be killed, selflessness and nobility are a myth. Almost all simply kill."

The young brunette agent looked as though she was going to be sick. She stood hastily, muttering that she needed some air, before leaving the room. The skinny one got up to follow her but the one with a permanent scowl stopped him and followed her himself.

When Hotch caught up to Emily he grasped her shoulders and guided her into his office.

She sat down heavily on the little couch with her head in her hands. Hotch pulled a chair opposite her.

"It's all my fault." She said. Her words were her palms but there was no missing the self-loathing in her voice. "All of that," she motioned vaguely back towards the round table room, "She blames me for it."

Hotch sighed. He had known this would come up at some point; he had seen how emotional she had been following her last visit to see JJ. He knew the confession she had made to her. "Just because she blames you doesn't make it your fault. She's angry and confused and needs someone to blame for what has happened to her. She keeps asking herself 'why me?' and gets nothing but silence in response."

Emily nodded half-heartedly.

"She just needs time. Give her time to process everything, let the dust settle. Eventually she'll realise that you were faced with an impossible choice and that what happened to her wasn't your fault." He paused for a moment, thinking back to the conversation he had had with JJ in the hospital, all those years ago when Emily had been fighting for her life on the operating table.

"She knew the risks, both of us did, when we decided to fake your death. Granted, we could never have predicted this scenario, but we both knew that if Doyle ever suspected that you were alive then one or both of us would be in his cross hairs. We agreed that it was a risk worth taking."

He looked at her carefully. The guilt in her eyes had lessened but she remained unconvinced. "Tell me again how Doyle got the upper hand when you were fighting him in that warehouse." She looked surprised at this change of track.

"He was throwing me around, beat me up pretty good. But somehow I ended up with the broken table leg in my hand and I was hitting him with it. He was dazed and injured. I dropped the table leg, figuring I could make a run for it. But the lights went out, I was distracted. Next thing I know, he's stabbing me with the broken table leg I'd just dropped."

"The lights went out because I ordered them cut as we breached the building." Hotch said. "You nearly died because of a decision I made."

"Hotch, don't be ridiculous, there was no way you could have known." Emily replied quickly.

"Exactly. There was no way I could have known. Just as there was no way you could have known what would happen to JJ. You couldn't even know for certain that JJ was even still alive, Doyle just as easily have killed her." He stopped, allowing that to sink in. "What you did know, was that Declan was alive and safe, and that you would do everything you could to keep it that way."

He stood, and offered her his hand. "Give it time. She'll understand." He said as Emily took his hand and stood also. She wiped her eyes and composed herself, setting resolve back into her posture. "Shall we?" He asked.

"Let's get back in there." She replied, ready to return to the fray. They had a Lieutenant to profile.

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><p>AN well I hope your brains haven't been fried, much as that creates a rather delightful mental image. It's my birthday tomorrow so why not leave a review to brighten an already exciting day?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N why hello again. I've decided to go for a lighter chapter this time, but think of it as happening at the same time as the previous chapter. Yes, I know I split the previous one in half but it's hard to write so you've got this for the time being. I may well change the chapter order later on to help with the continuity. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter/ wished me happy birthday (OnceuponCaptainSwan, Hippiechic81, KraziFlareZ, Armand, browneyes99, drsnvamps, , moonie912, Jareau37, foxyfeline, Cupcake and rmpcmfan) you are my watchers on the wall, the arrows in my quiver and the ink in my pen.

Just a quick note- if 'Jay' is referenced in this, then it is from JJ's POV, if JJ is referred to as 'JJ' then it is from Dr Meaden's POV. Hope that makes sense when you read it. I.e, JJ doesn't think of herself as 'JJ' yet.

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><p>Jay grimaced as she rubbed her thumb in firm circles around her shoulder. The aching was worse today; she had slept on it awkwardly and Crow had said that she was thrashing in the night, enough to wake him at least. She had a several small bruises forming across her knuckles where she assumed she had lashed out at the floor and the bed in her sleep.<p>

Dr Meaden had changed the seating plan for their session today. She had tried to do it subtly but Jay knew exactly what she was doing. Instead of sitting behind her desk as she normally did, she had moved a second armchair to the side of the desk, so that it was opposite Jay's. In doing so, she had removed the barrier between them. It made Jay feel uncomfortable, but so did lots of other things, so she just grit her teeth and went with it.

The corners of Dr Meaden's mouth upturned as she realised just how perceptive her patient was. She had hoped that JJ might think of her change of seat as simply the natural progression of therapy as they grew more comfortable with each other. The way JJ narrowed her eyes told her that she had given the game away. The way she had sat further back in the chair with her legs folded into a half crouch told her that she wasn't happy about it.

It also proved that the doctor was right; her patient didn't trust her, at least not entirely. With the desk between them as a barrier, instinct told JJ that if she had moved to threaten her in any way, then she had an extra second or two to escape. Without that barrier she felt more vulnerable.

As it was, the doctor was in a difficult position. JJ would still only speak Russian, and the majority of her own side of the conversation was also in Russian. The problem was that, whilst JJ felt more comfortable hearing Russian, it reinforced the subconscious idea that the doctor was there as an authority figure that she needed to obey. If she tried speaking solely in English, JJ quickly became agitated and closed herself off. It was a bit of a catch 22 situation really, one that Dr Meaden needed to find a solution to, and quickly, if she was going to continue making progress with her patient.

JJ's reliance on Crow, and vice versa, was beginning to trouble her as well. At first she had believed it to be a beneficial relationship, and to some extent it was, but the incident last week had proved that their protectiveness of one another was a double edged sword. It did appear to be something JJ had learned from though; there had been no similar incidents since. She was considering bringing them in for a session together, so that she could really analyse their dynamic properly, rather than as two separate people.

She eyed her patient carefully. Thus far she had been reluctant to speak about her relationship with Crow- she knew nothing of their history aside from that they had fought together. To see them together though, she could understand why she had heard two of the nurses whispering that they were romantically involved. All she knew for certain, however, was that their trust in each other was absolute.

"**Why do you call him 'Crow'?**" She asked suddenly, still watching her carefully. JJ's eyes snapped to hers.

"**It's his name.**" She said, feigning confusion. Meaden could tell that she was being deliberately obtuse.

"**Yes, it's his name. But why is that his name?** He calls you _soyka_, because of the blue jays on your arm and the word's similarity to _shavka_. And they called you _shavka _because of the scars left on you from dog bites." She watched as JJ grimaced at the mention of the scars. It was cruel to put it so bluntly but it couldn't be helped. "**You mentioned another man called Bantam- bantam being short for bantamweight- an ironic name because the man in question was 6'4" and built like an ox.** So why do you call Sebastian _vorona_?"

JJ shifted anxiously, but she didn't think it was in response to the question so much as in response to her referring to Crow as Sebastian. In her sessions with Mr Castan, he had reacted in a very similar fashion when she had referred to JJ as 'JJ' rather than _soyka_. And there lay another confusing twist in their relationship; he was comfortable with her calling JJ _soyka, _and yet JJ would only allow him to call her that, preferring the doctor and staff to call her JJ or _shavka_. Such a seemingly trivial thing and yet clearly so important to them.

JJ waited a long time before replying, apparently making up her mind about what to tell her. When she did, a small smile curled her lips, but the answer she gave was in no way the sort of answer the doctor would have expected from that kind of expression.

"**The first time we met, he almost beat me to death with a crowbar.**" That small smile still played across her face.

Dr Meaden was stunned. She had no idea what to say to that. "A crowbar?" She asked in disbelief.

JJ misunderstood her disbelief and began to explain, "**It was before the rules changed. It used to be that a Ghost could choose their weapon for the final round but then it changed so that you had to use a knife.**" She looked at the doctor, to see if she had explained sufficiently and then added as an afterthought "**Even after the rules changed, the Lieutenant let him keep his crowbar. He was kind like that.**"

The doctor heard her, but was thinking carefully. "Was his name always _vorona_ or did you start calling him that after he… after you met him?"

JJ cocked her head to the side and chewed on her lip a little, clearly perplexed as to why the doctor thought it mattered. After a second or two, she said "**He'd had that name since Philly, as far as I know, though he'd been fighting for just over three years when I met him, so I suppose he could have picked it up in Baltimore?**"

Dr Meaden nodded, mulling over this new found information. The name made sense, shortening crowbar to crow. But it proved that Russian was perhaps not as hardwired into her patients to the extent that she had thought. It was not difficult to see why a man who fought with a crowbar would earn the nickname of 'crow', but that association only worked in the English language. The Russian word for crow was _vorona_, yes, but the Russian for crow_bar_ was simply _lom_.

Jay watched the doctor, watched the cogs turning in her mind. Had she said too much? Had she said something wrong?

"**Do you think that Crow would ever hurt you?**"

The question took her by surprise but her response was instantaneous. "**No.**" Was all she said, although she could understand why the doctor might be a tad sceptical, given what Jay had just told her.

"So you trust him completely?"

Jay narrowed her eyes, suspicious again, but nodded slowly. The doctor smiled warmly, though there was something triumphant about that smile.

"**Okay then. Between now and our next session, I would like you and Crow to try having a conversation in English.**" Dr Meaden watched JJ chew her lip, considering the idea. JJ certainly looked reluctant so the doctor pressed on. "**I know it's not something you want to do, but speaking English again will be a key part to helping you regain control in your life. It will help you. And it will help Crow.**"

That sealed the deal. She knew that JJ would do anything she could to help Crow. And JJ knew that she knew; even now she had fixed her with a gaze that was both sullen and rueful.

Jay looked at her feeling cornered and irritated that she could be so easily manipulated. She didn't agree though; she'd see what Crow thought of the idea and if he wanted to, then maybe they could try it. Even so, the thought of daring to speak English again filled her with fear, an irrational fear perhaps but one so deeply ingrained that she wondered if she would ever be rid of it.

She glanced at the clock. 11:32am. "**May I go?**" She asked quietly.

The doctor smiled. "Of course."

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Crow appeared at the door to her room. He gave her that lopsided smile that he always did and sat down beside her. Yesterday he had forced himself to sit opposite her, with his back to the door, but he had spent so much time with his head turned to the side listening out for any sign of danger that Jay had been surprised his spine hadn't been locked in that position for the rest of the day. Eventually she had told him to sit next to her because her neck was getting sore just looking at him.<p>

She was shuffling two packs of cards together, an awkward action thanks to her maimed hand but she was slowly getting the hang of it. Without a word she dealt them each thirteen cards. They had taken to playing a bastardised version of contract rummy that Crow had learned as a kid. It was interesting playing rummy with Crow because he couldn't remember all of the contracts for each of the rounds- he claimed there were nine, each with a different 'goal'.

He had remembered five rounds so far: A set of three and a run of four, two sets of three with no pictures, a set of pictures and a run of four, three sets of three, a set of wilds and two runs of four. Every now and then he would remember a rule to the game as well- it had taken him three games to remember that in this version of rummy a two counted as a wild card.

She had accused him of making up the rules but he swore that he wasn't with such sincerity that it was almost comical.

Part way into their first round, he said hesitantly, "**Dr Meaden said that we should speak English.**"

Jay didn't say anything, instead she picked up a card from the deck. Eight of clubs. She discarded it. She licked her lips apprehensively. "**Do you want to?**" She asked. She could see how uncomfortable Crow was, his anxiety was painted across his face. Maybe not obvious to a stranger, but clear as day to her.

"**I don't know**" He replied. He picked up a card, but didn't appear to look at it as he placed it into his hand. "**There doesn't seem to be much of us that can be fixed, does there?**"

She knew what he meant; they were both messed up, both had done unforgiveable things. Both had be diagnosed as HIV positive. She was missing a finger and a kidney, he was missing a brother. All of this was irreversible, they would never be the people they had been before.

But language was something they _could_ fix, or at least they thought they could. Eventually. Even if the prospect filled them with more fear than it should.

She wanted to try, but she didn't know if she was ready yet. Perhaps she would never be ready and would have to try anyway. "**Chuck a card**" she said, prompting Crow to actually look at the card he had picked up. Apparently it was a card he needed. He shift the card to the other end of his hand and laid down a run of nine, ten, jack, queen of spades and a set of three fours. He discarded a three of hearts.

She picked up a card. The two of hearts. What she needed to lay her cards. She didn't just yet though as Crow asked her "**When did you last speak English?**"

She considered lying to him, telling him that it was over three years ago. She didn't though. "**The night I helped Morgan to escape from Boston.**" His eyes widened.

"**What did you say?**"

Keeping her eyes on her cards as she laid them down, a set of sixes and a run of three, two of hearts, five, six of diamonds, she said "**I told him that I wasn't worth saving.**" Her words were little more than a whisper.

"**Do you believe that?**" He asked, frowning a little.

Jay shrugged. "**I did then. Now… I don't know.**"

There was a long silence between them, though she didn't meet his eyes, until eventually, alien syllables met her ears. "I don't… believe that." Crow said. His words were so quiet that she could barely hear them. They were stumbling and halting, and his voice was trembling, but he had managed it. "You are… worth saving." He had the strangest look on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe that he had said it.

Of course, for Crow, it had been almost four years since a word of English had left his lips.

She grinned at him, although two sets of eyes flickered towards the doorway, just in case. Now it was her turn. She knew the words, she knew how to form them. But as they came to the tip of her tongue they felt jumbled and messy. Her skin was crawling, as though a thousand ants were skittering across her skin. "Thank you." She mumbled. "I don't think… I'd be alive… today… without you." Her heart was in her mouth and the hairs on the back of her neck were stood on end, anticipating the whistle of a whip or the boot of a Watcher.

When no harm came, she smiled weakly. He smiled back at her. Slowly, a glint of mischief replaced some of the anxiety in his eyes. This time when he spoke, the words came out so fast it was as if he were trying to chase them away from him for fear of incriminating himself. "Doyouthinkthiscountsasaconversation?"

Jay burst into laughter. They'd managed a grand total of thirty words between them, but screw it. It felt like they'd achieved more in the last five minutes than they had the last two months. Yes, she was going to count this as a conversation.

* * *

><p>AN yay they're making progress so I hope you enjoyed that :D will hopefully upload the second half of the previous chapter in the next week or so but let me know what you think in the meantime


	7. Chapter 7

A/N back again and in a timely fashion *congratulates self* thanks for sticking with me on this one, please let me know if I've got the pace right, when you're as detail-obsessed as I am it's hard to judge whether you're getting the pace of a fic right. Thank you to all my reviewers for your feedback (XoxMountainGirlxoX, rmpcmfan, Guest, Hippiechic81, browneyes99, Leslet, , reidfan1971, Armand, Cupcake and tamorapiercefanatic).

So yeah, this chapter picks up where Ch5 left off, enjoy!

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><p>When Emily and Hotch returned to the round table room, the team had moved on to Lex's personal dealings with Washington. Morgan looked towards Emily as she took her seat but otherwise their attention remained on Lex.<p>

"I met with Washington only two or three times as he usually entrusted his acquisitions to his Batons or higher up Watchers. It was the law enforcement Ghosts that really piqued his interest; they were the only ones he insisted on being there in person to inspect."

"What was his special interest in people from law enforcement?" Blake asked, careful to call them people; she was tired of listening to him refer to them as livestock or objects.

Lex gave a small shrug. "I couldn't say. Some have been known to be more successful fighters, but they're inconsistent. You can never predict how a Ghost will react to their initial conditioning."

Morgan's brow furrowed. "It could be a vendetta against the police, or authority in general. Or it could be something more personal, perhaps he's felt persecuted by law enforcement in the past?"

Lex nodded "I suppose that's possible; I heard a rumour that his wife had been killed by cops, collateral damage in a shootout or something. But I also heard whispers that his father was an MPD officer, that he had been abusive. I put about as much stock in those rumours as I do the rumours that he burns alive any Watcher who messes with a Ghost under his protection."

Reid had been skimming through the autopsy file on Jason Bishop, the undercover MPD officer who had been killed. "The murder of Officer Bishop certainly suggests a deeper motive than one of simply protecting his organisation from the authorities. His body was hacked into pieces and left in a dumpster before being set alight."

"The dumpster was only two blocks away from Bishop's precinct." Emily said quietly. "One hell of a way to send the MPD a message. It feels more like a taunt."

"And then there's the overkill. Marks on the bones were indicative of a rotary saw being used to disarticulate the body." Reid grimaced. "Cause of death was determined to be a deep laceration to the throat, transecting both carotid arteries and the left jugular vein."

"Whoever killed him knew what they were doing." Rossi said.

"Whoever?" asked Blake, she had assumed that Washington had been the one to kill Mr Bishop.

Rossi nodded, "There was no damage to the trachea." He replied, looking at the autopsy photos intently. He was the only member of the team who had watched all of JJ's recorded fights, he knew her signature and right now it was staring up at him from the file on the table. "The head was tilted forward as the cut was made, not backwards as you see in the movies. The final cut was quick, Bishop would have bled out in under a minute, in direct opposition to the abdominal bullet wound."

Hotch frowned, "Thanks to bone fragments embedded in the liver, the ME was able to determine the bullet path. The bullet entered Bishops body between the eighth and ninth ribs, continuing in a downwards trajectory, through the diaphragm and liver before coming to rest just beneath the eleventh rib."

"The cut was merciful but the gunshot wound was sadistic. An injury like that would have been excruciating. It would have taken over a day to die from it." Morgan said, anger tinting his voice.

"Washington is a sadistic narcissist who craves control, a control that he would only ever relinquish in order to cause more pain. If I had to guess, I would say that he condemned Bishop to a slow, agonising death from the bullet wound, but gave someone else the opportunity to end his suffering early, or forced them to make the final cut." Rossi's voice was heavy by the time he finished. "At this point, I think we should address the proverbial elephant in the room."

Hotch sighed and rubbed his temples. "JJ's involvement." The rest of the room looked very uncomfortable at the progression of the conversation.

Rossi nodded. "Whether it's something we want to consider or not, the possibility remains that JJ could have been the one to make that final cut. In fact, I would consider it a probability."

"There's no doubt that they knew each other; she has his tattoo and his badge number burned into her arm. Added to which, I would be reluctant to call the fact that JJ was… transferred to Boston less than two weeks after Bishop's death a coincidence." Morgan admitted. It had been something that had been playing on his mind for some time now, especially after Santiago's reaction to seeing JJ's blue jay tattoo.

"I've watched how JJ fights-" Rossi paused. How could he put this delicately? He couldn't. "If ever the opportunity arises, she prefers to…" He sighed, there was no point beating about the bush. "She prefers to kill using a quick cut to the throat, with the head bent forward, just as is evident on Officer Bishop."

The room was silent, as each team member let that fact sink in. They all knew that JJ had no choice, they told themselves that every day, just as they told her that every time they went to visit her. But that didn't change the fact that in order to survive, she had had to make logical, tactical decisions with the aim of killing another human being. Her being alive today just proved that the decisions she had made were the right ones.

Eventually, Hotch dialled through to Garcia. There was no cheerful greeting from the other end of the phone, only apprehensive quiet.

"Garcia, I need you to bring up the case file on Officer Bishop's murder. In it is an unknown DNA profile taken from bone fragments found with his body. I need you to compare that profile to JJ's and see if you get a match."

"Uh, okay. Yes, Sir. With the two DNA profiles on digital file already, it should take long for me to get a result." Her voice was higher than usual, no doubt she was dreading what she might find.

"Thanks, Penelope."

"Hotch?" Emily asked, she had only looked at the autopsy file in passing so she was unsure which bone fragments Hotch was talking about. She could see that Hotch was trying to keep his stoic mask in place but he was failing; he looked defeated and fatigued.

"The bone fragments were pieces of a distal, intermediate and proximal phalanges. Finger bones." Hotch tried to explain.

There was dread in her eyes. "And you think that…?"

Hotch nodded solemnly, "Yes."

"Oh God." Emily was horrified. Flicking through the autopsy file to where the notes on the bone fragments were, she realised that it made sense. It was sickening. There were tool marks on the broken edges of the bones, hypothesised to be from a chisel by the medical examiner. Each fragment had been removed individually, antemortem.

"We'll need to hear JJ's account to know what really happened…" Reid said quietly. "I could go see her? See if she's ready to open up about Bishop?"

"Good idea. Prentiss, go with him. I know how you two left things last time but there may be details that JJ would prefer to talk to a woman about." Hotch also hoped that with a few days to cool off, JJ might now be in a better place to reconcile with Emily.

Emily nodded slowly, not entirely sure that it was a good idea but Hotch was right, there were definitely things that JJ would likely be uncomfortable talking to Reid about.

Hotch's phone rang suddenly. It was Garcia. "Do you have a match, Garcia?"

"No, not yet. You need to turn on the news. Now." She spoke quickly, urgently.

Morgan grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, flicking over to the news channel. They were met with an image of a warehouse, surrounded by police vehicles.

…_taskforce involving the FBI and local police raided a waste disposal plant in Philadelphia's industrial district this morning. Details about what they were looking for have yet to be released but we do know that the bodies of more than a dozen hostages have since been transported to the city morgue…_

"Was that…?" Emily started to say; she remembered Crow's description of the Philadelphia's headquarters.

"I'm putting up the footage from the body cams of the swat teams now." Garcia replied. "The Ghost Trader taskforce in Philadelphia raided the waste disposal plant they believed to be the headquarters of the Philadelphia Second this morning. They met no resistance."

"No resistance? Wouldn't the-"

"Just watch it." Garcia said. Her voice wasn't sharp, only shocked and sad. Morgan had no doubt that cuddly panda pictures were currently splayed across her screen in an effort to counter-balance whatever was in the footage.

The footage was infra-red; the grey-green figures and shapes were eerie as they played across the screen. The swat officers entered via the sewage tunnels then moved up through the basement levels, clearing rooms as they went. There were no signs of life. Eventually they came to a door that was locked. They rammed it open and threw flash-bang grenades inside. They moved into the room, the smoke billowing lightly in the beam of their flashlights.

The team was tense as they waited for the smoke to clear. For Rossi and Blake, the images on the screen were reminiscent of the night JJ had been rescued when they had raided Boston's warehouse. There were no screams of fear coming from the screen though. And when the smoke did finally clear, they could see why.

First they saw the blood on the walls. It was black in the infrared but the spatter patterns were unmistakeable. Then they saw the bodies. They were slouched against the wall, crumpled on the floor like so many bloodied rag dolls. Finally they saw the words on the floor, painted in blood.

_There are more._

Morgan squinted. The footage was a little pixelated but he thought he could make out the black squares tattooed on their necks. They had been Ghosts, all of them. Murdered to send a message to the police, the FBI. To them. _This is on you. Back off or you'll be bathing in their blood before we're finished._

Morgan grabbed his phone and dialled.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked.

"Phoning JJ's hospital, if Crow sees this…" He replied, waiting for someone on the other end to pick up.

"Oh shit."

* * *

><p>They were sat on one of the couches in the communal room, watching the news. They liked knowing what was going on in the outside world; that way they didn't feel so detached from it. Crow was shuffling a pack of cards over and over again. A few of the other patients were giving them anxious looks, understandably so, given Jay's outburst the previous week.<p>

Most of the news passed Jay by but she focused her attention on it as she registered the word 'taskforce'. She looked up and her eyes widened. "**Crow, isn't that…?**" She nudged him. His eyes locked on the screen.

"**Oh my God.**" He breathed. The pack of cards fell to the floor, forgotten.

…_bodies of more than a dozen hostages have since been transported to the city morgue…_

He looked at her, stunned. They both knew who the hostages had been. Ghosts are expendable. "**Did I do that?**" He whispered. "**Was that my fault?**" His eyes were wild and guilty. And just like that he was losing control. "**Did I do that? Did I do that? Did I do that?**" He was saying it over and over again, his voice high and hoarse.

She stood him up and guided him out of the room, away from the speculative eyes of the other patients. "**Come on, outside**" she said softly. She would have liked to get him back to his room but he was deteriorating. She cupped his face in her hands as he continued to ask her if it was his fault. "**It wasn't your fault. That was not on you, do you hear me?**"

He slid down the corridor wall, folding into a heap on the floor. She held him tight against her, rocking him gently as he cried into her shoulder. "**Those people… It's my fault… I shouldn't have helped them… I shouldn't have said anything.**" He sobbed. He curled in on himself, raking his fingernails over his scalp. His nails left ragged red lines behind them.

She took his hands in hers. "**You're hurting yourself,**" she murmured, resting her forehead against his and guiding his hands to her shoulders before placing her hands on his. She knew that he would never hurt her. He had stopped talking now, but his chest heaved and shook as sobs wracked his chest. She understood, really she did. In all likelihood, he had known some of the Ghosts who had been killed, by now they would have been close to four years old. Close to freedom, whatever that meant.

Tears fell from her own eyes as he clung to her, his tears soaking into her shirt. Just hours ago they had been making progress. She knew that life wasn't fair, she knew that better than anyone. But just for once she wanted an actual victory. She was tired of struggling on, desperately trying to mend two broken souls.

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><p>AN to quote Ramsey Snow/Bolton, if you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention... well you might get a happy ending, but it's a while off, so stick with me. Let me know what you think of the pace, hope i'm getting it right for you :D


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